


you're sort of famous a minor celebrity

by remembermyfic



Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [8]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, alternate universe - youtuber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: Connor’s heart is thumping, like there are things Dylan can tell about Connor without Connor needing to say a word. “Listen. I watch every game. I have to. So before you get down on yourself about your season, reach out, okay? Use the number I gave you.”“Trust a reporter?”“Not really a reporter,” is Dylan’s answer.
Relationships: Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome
Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564486
Comments: 14
Kudos: 192





	you're sort of famous a minor celebrity

**Author's Note:**

> You know the people, you don't want to be here. 
> 
> Title from TMZ from Weird Al. I was equally as surprised.

Connor meets Dylan Strome at an elementary school while at an Adidas event. It’s the kind of event Connor loves because it’s hockey and it’s kids. As a bonus, it’s still early enough in the season that everything’s exciting.

“We’re mostly looking for photos,” Dylan says, after he’d introduced himself. It’s him and one other member of Adidas marketing, then the five Oilers’ staff members. Connor finds himself regretting not bringing another teammate with him.

“We’ll get a couple of videos for Instagram stories and maybe a Live, but I hate those, personally, so.”

Connor nods. He doesn’t really care what content they need and how they’re going to get it. He cares about goofing with the kids, seeing their faces light up. And many of them do when the twenty-five tiny bodies come spilling into the gym.

Connor loses track of time with the kids. He loses track of everything really, except the vibrating excitement of the students. He likes this feeling, relaxed and in his element, where hockey is just fun and there’s no playoff pressure. He’s genuinely sad when they take their final picture and send the kids back to class.

“Dude,” Dylan calls, interrupting Connor’s spiraling thoughts. “I’ve never had someone make my job so easy.”

“Sure,” he says awkwardly and self-consciously shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Want to see?”

It’s not something Connor generally gets asked and he blinks at Dylan, even as Dylan flips through his phone. The excitement and joy looks good on him, Connor thinks, then almost winces and has to stop himself when Dylan choses that moment to turn the phone around. It’s a picture of Connor, of course, caught mid-laugh. Connor generally hates that look because it’s awkward as all hell and he knows it, but Dylan’s caught him genuinely enjoying himself and having fun and Connor finds himself blushing.

“Can I have that?”

“I’m forwarding it on to-“

“No,” he says impulsively because that’s not a picture that would make the cut with his publicist. He pulls out his phone. “Can you send it to me? Personally?”

“Of course dude.” He sounds weird about it, but Connor doesn’t care.

He posts the picture later, without the permission of anyone.

_Thanks to the @adidascanada family for reminding me why I play the game!_

He meets Dylan for the second time at Worlds.

“TSN this time,” Dylan says with a little smile that is both wry and full of child-like excitement. “Want to do an interview?” He laughs when Connor freezes. “Relax. I wouldn’t do that to you outside of a game.”

Connor’s more grateful than he’ll ever admit.

“Watched your season though. It was a good one for you.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. It’s another missed playoff opportunity and thus another disappointing season. Everyone’s been talking about how his presence at Worlds is about redemption, to prove he can still win.

“Like I said,” Dylan repeats, this time wry. “It was a good season for you.”

“It was okay. No playoffs.”

Dylan’s face is too aware. “Sure. But a chance to put on the leaf.”

“Always nice to represent your country.”

Dylan hums. Connor’s heart is thumping, like there are things Dylan can tell about Connor without Connor needing to say a word. “Listen. I watch every game. I have to. So before you get down on yourself about your season, reach out, okay? Use the number I gave you.”

“Trust a reporter?”

“Not really a reporter,” is Dylan’s answer. “Personal phone to personal phone is all off the record.”

“You’re with TSN.”

“On contract for the tourney.” He puts out his hand. “Promise you’ll reach out. I’ll promise to keep confidentiality.”

Connor’s heart is still thumping, adrenaline spiking through him; a thrill.

Connor shakes his hand.

_What happens if I ask for a trade?_

Dylan blinks at the message, sure that it can’t be real. _Edmonton collectively shits their pants_. He hits send, then follows it up with: _do you want to?_

 _I don’t want to be here,_ is Connor’s response. Dylan still thinks it’s crazy surreal that these are real conversations he has with McJesus.

_Where would you go?_

_Ottawa? They have to hit the floor. And it’s closer to home. Chabby and I could tear it up together._

Dylan finds himself snorting. Trading for McDavid would deplete half of the Sens prospect pool and Dylan knows it better than most. He’s been tracking so many potential trades and places for prominent UFA candidates…

 _Plus,_ Connor’s next text starts, _it’s closer to home_.

The repetition warms Dylan’s heart in ways that it really shouldn’t considering he understandably knows that his crush on Connor can’t be anything. He also knows the McDavids fly out all the time, but it can’t be the same. It doesn’t much matter for the moment because even the idea of him requesting a trade…

 _The NHL would break_ , Dylan replies. _Edmonton would become a desolate pit in the middle of Alberta_.

_My therapist is worried about my mental stability._

Dylan doesn’t tell him that he is also worried. It breaks his heart time and time again to hear how down Connor is, how hard it is to lose so much. It’s not like there aren’t articles and articles about it either, how Edmonton is failing its star and its fans. Hearing it from the horse’s mouth always makes it feel more real. _What do you want to do?_

_Win. Be less tired._

Dylan snorts at that. _Everyone’s tired. Sources say Auston Matthews is carrying around some impressive suitcases._

_Yeah._

Dylan considers his next message carefully. _Whatever you decide, I’m still going to make videos about how amazing of a player you are and how it isn’t on you, management is failing you._

It takes forever for Connor to reply, _Videos? Still?_

Dylan’s fucked.

Dylan never truly answers Connor’s question about videos and Connor wouldn’t even know where to start. Lucky for him Alex Debrincat comes through.

 _You owe me,_ is Alex’s message with the link. Connor will deal with Alex later.

“BURN IT DOWN.”

Connor startles in his seat and leaps for the volume on his laptop. It takes him a few moments to truly register that it is Dylan on the screen, YouTube name Stromer, currently screaming about a loss and management’s inability to make a decent trade or signing.

“And listen, listen,” Dylan’s saying, hands up to placate the viewer. “I’m the first person to tell you that trading McDavid will literally ruin the franchise, and probably make Edmonton implode. But on the other side, not giving adequate support to a 1-2-3 of the league’s best player, Draisaitl and Nugent-Hopkins is sacrificing the best years of all three players.”

Connor feels numb. Dylan’s arguments are sound hockey arguments and nothing in the video even hints at the very specific Oilers-related details that are definitely in Dylan’s message history. It still gives him the butterflies to hear how passionate Dylan is, the faith that he has in Connor himself.

He takes a picture of his laptop with Dylan’s video pulled up and sends it. _Cute._

Dylan doesn’t reply.

Connor can’t say he expected to see Dylan at the All Star Game. It jolts him in a way that is incredibly irritating. He hasn’t spoken to Dylan in weeks, since Alex pulled through and sent Connor down a YouTube rabbit hole. But here he is, sitting across from a Dylan that won’t look at him, waiting for his interview to start. The whole thing is awkward, to say the least and it leaves Connor anxious and irritated.

“You never answered me.”

Dylan looks up at him, wary. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Anything?” He drops his voice because there’s still crew nearby. “I thought we had trust and you up and stopped talking to me.”

“We can’t do this here.”

“Then take a break,” Connor demands. He hates that he deflates after he says it. “We were friends weren’t we?”

“Text friends.”

“Okay,” Connor nods and threads his fingers together. “Okay. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around.”

Never in his life has Connor walked out of an interview, but he does now, shakes a few hands and doesn’t look back as he leaves the room. He avoids the elevator because he doesn’t want to wait. The stairwell, however, is empty, and Connor takes refuge there.

It shouldn’t bother him. Dylan didn’t say anything Connor didn’t already know. But Connor had liked Dylan, even more so as they’d genuinely started talking, when Connor felt like he could actually be real with Dylan. His stomach churns, even though he has literal physical proof that Dylan isn’t about to spill all of his secrets.

He lets himself just breathe, to think and figure out what his emotions are doing. Eventually he sighs. He’d like Dylan. Hell, he’d been attracted to Dylan and Dylan had been kind and funny and trustworthy. He’d _liked_ Dylan. Too much apparently, because it feels like a breakup.

Connor sighs as he pushes through the stairwell to his floor. He’ll take tonight, order room service, and tomorrow he’ll delete Dylan’s number and move forward. Maybe Drai will stop pouting that Connor no longer tells him things.

He pulls up short at the lanky body leaning against the wall by his room. Dylan pushes himself up to his full height and Connor feels his stomach flip.

“I, um… Took my break.”

Connor doesn’t say anything and that sends Dylan’s pulse skyrocketing. He definitely doesn’t have the right to make demands here. He’s the one who’s been ignoring Connor, who he’s been leaving on read because he realized how terrifying it is to one, reveal his YouTube channel to the fucking team captain; and two, to almost simultaneously realize that he wants said captain to call him all the time.

In the process, however, Dylan had conveniently forgotten that said captain is Connor, and Connor is real and sweet and attractive. Dylan wants that Connor, so much.

Connor doesn’t sit when they make it inside and Dylan can’t blame him. He doesn’t really want to either, but he feels like he owes Connor that.

“Once upon a time, a regular dude got a cool opportunity to meet an amazing hockey player,” Dylan begins, because he owes Connor that too. “And it turns out, that player is more than attractive. He has a huge heart and cares so deeply about the endorsements that let him work with kids, but really isn’t a huge fan of the ones that make him look like an athlete.”

“I hate cardio.” But Connor’s starting to smile, just a little. Dylan’s trying not to get his hopes up.

“I know,” Dylan says. “I know because you told me, because you trusted me. And I was fine when it was Connor. The moment I told you about YouTube, I remembered you’re not just my Connor who is sweet and hurting and taking so much onto his shoulders. You’re Connor McDavid. There are whole videos on my channel dedicated to your draft.”

“I watched them,” Connor replies. “They were cute too.” He tilts his head. “You called me hot and talented.”

Dylan laughs and feels some of the tension release. “I wasn’t wrong. I’m not wrong.”

“There is one thing though,” Connor says , stepping towards Dylan. “You didn’t tell me what happened to the regular guy.”

“He got scared,” Dylan admits. “What chance is there for a barely-a-reporter YouTuber and the best player in the NHL?”

“Pretty sure that decision has to include the hockey player.”

Dylan’s breath catches.

“It’s not like it’s going to be easy,” Connor says. “But I’d still like to try.”

“You’d like to try.” Dylan feels utterly winded. “Am I dreaming?” He jumps when Connor reaches out and pinches his shoulder. “Hey!”

“Not dreaming,” Connor says solemnly. “And not that different from me.” Then, after a moment. “Is that a yes?”

It’s hard to process, even with everything laid out, even with Connor’s forgiveness right there. “Take me to dinner first.”

“Sure,” Connor agrees like it’s easy. “Now?”

“I, uh. I have to interview Johnny Gaudreau.”

Connor fixes him with a steady, even gaze. Dylan feels the weight of it, the test that’s coming. “So text me when you’re done.”

Dylan looks up at him and takes a terrifying leap. “I will. I promise.”


End file.
